


"You're Never Alone" ~ To Anyone Dealing With Any Form Of Depression

by ThatGirlThatNoOneReallyKnows



Category: Sean McLoughlin/Mark Fischbach - Fandom, Septiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Depression, Important speech in the middle..., M/M, Self-Harm, Suicude, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 09:17:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6798082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatGirlThatNoOneReallyKnows/pseuds/ThatGirlThatNoOneReallyKnows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short ride through depression, suicide, and self-harm, featuring Mark and Jack.</p><p>Important note for anyone dealing with any shape or form of depression in the middle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"You're Never Alone" ~ To Anyone Dealing With Any Form Of Depression

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FawnChara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FawnChara/gifts), [LIKEABOSSFOREVER](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LIKEABOSSFOREVER/gifts), [angelheartbeat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelheartbeat/gifts).



~

"You okay, Jack?"

The lights of the airport passed by quickly outside the car window, and the question asked by Jack's best friend went unnoticed for a brief moment, until Jack realized with an _oh, shit,_ that there was no one else Mark could be addressing.

"Mm? Oh... yep," Jack replied halfheartedly, leaning his head on the passenger side door's cold window.  
_Look tired,_ he thought to himself. His eyes closed and he breathed slowly and deeply, resting his jaw in his palm.

"You sure?"

The question was careful and curious, slightly concerned. And Jack felt a twinge of annoyance deep down.

"Yeah, s'just the jetlag... Man, I wish I'd gotten a better seat."  
_Please believe me._

Mark laughed, most likely turning his attention back to the road. "Well, you better get a good night's sleep tonight, you dork. Those autographs aren't gonna sign themselves. And we need you on the panel."

Jack felt a little smile on his lips when Mark laughed. Mark had such a great laugh.

"Ye don't _need_ me..."

"Of course we do! The panel wouldn't be the same without you, Jack."

Jack cracked open his eyes, looking out at the passing city of Los Angeles, the dark sky lit up by bright lights.

Would it, really?

~

"We're home!"

The car pulled to a stop, the wheels making slightly audible crunching noises on the driveway before the engine shut off. 

"Yayyy..." Jack mumbled, lifting his head from the door. He stretched and yawned, hearing Mark unbuckle his seatbelt and open the driver's door. Jack did the same, albeit very sleepily. The ride back to Mark's house had been pretty calm, and Jack's lack of sleep and growing stress over the past few days had taken its toll on him. When he got out of the car, Mark was already carrying his suitcase. 

"I can carry that, ye know," Jack protested, reaching for the item in Mark's hands. 

"Nope, you're a freaking zombie, Jack. You're going straight to bed when we get inside," Mark told him, smiling as he switched the suitcase to his other arm, away from Jack. 

"Alright, mom," Jack replied, flashing a grin Mark's way. 

"Don't make me throw this suitcase at you. I swear I'll do it!"

Jack jumped out of Mark's reach, laughing. God, it felt good to smile genuinely, for once. Mark seemed to have that affect on him all the time, though...

When they'd gotten inside, and had been greeted by a very excited Chica, Mark had shown Jack to the guest room, even though Jack already knew where that was from the first time he'd slept over at Mark's for a convention. Mark had tossed the suitcase on the bed and let Jack do his thing, which was basically strip to his underwear and flop into bed, far too tired to deal with anything else. When there was a knock on the door, Jack, who was already half asleep, jumped and pulled the covers up over himself. "Um... Yeah?"  
"I just wanted to say good night," came Mark's voice from the other side of the door, and Jack relaxed, a small smile escaping as his heart fluttered in his chest.

"Night, Mark."

"Night, Jack."

~

"Hey, Jack. Everything alright?"

Jack looked up from the restaurant table, his train of dark thoughts suddenly broken by a deep baritone voice, filled with concern. His eyes met gorgeous, brown, almond ones, thin eyebrows furrowed, mouth set into a slight, worried frown. He was aware of four other sets of eyes on him as well.  
He put on a fake smile, lying through his teeth. "Yeah, of course! M'fine, I'm just so tired."

A convincing laugh.

"Conventions are exhausting. Ye don't really notice how tired ye are until after the signings and panels, huh?"  
_Please believe me._

Mark's face broke into a relieved smile. "Oh yeah. Gotta love the fans, but I feel you." 

"You guys are so popular, stop complaining!" Wade cut in jokingly, earning laughs from the guys around them.

"They're just assholes because they can be," Bob put in, grinning.

"Us?! Felix is the most subscribed person on YouTube!" Mark protested, holding his hands up in defense.

"I'm not an asshole just because I have more subscribers than you," Felix laughed.

Ken mostly just watched with an amused look, arms crossed, putting in a comment here and there as the joking argument continued.

The conversation dimmed out as Jack went back to the hidden, self-loathing, dark part of his mind, where he kept all his secrets and demons. He didn't snap out of it until the waitress came up to the table, asking for their orders. He tried to ignore the confused and slightly concerned look Mark gave him when he said he wasn't hungry.

~

Jack sat in his room, spacing out as he stared at the wall. After a long day of meeting fans and doing signings, he was tired and just wanted to rest for a few hours. But his mind kept him from relaxing. Instead, it told him that he should be recording games, or editing videos, or answering comments, or---

Jack shook his head vehemently, pulling up his sleeves to hide the already-clothing-covered scars buried in his forearm. No. He couldn't do that here, in Mark's house. Plus, what would he use to do it? Mark would probably notice if one of his knives went missing.

But he just wanted a relief from the awful stress...

He couldn't get drunk. Hell, no. What if he opened up to Mark, in this vulnerable state? 

Maybe if he just snuck downstairs when Mark was sleeping? He could say that he needed a late-night shower, if Mark heard it being turned on. Then he could clean and return the knife right after he was done with it...

 _No, no, no, what the hell am I thinking?_ he thought to himself, squeezing his hands together anxiously.

Jack jumped, feeling his heartbeat skyrocket when a voice said from the doorway, "Are you sure you're alright, Jack?"

He looked up to see Mark leaning against the doorframe, looking amazing just standing there. Jack tore his eyes away before he made things awkward, staring at Mark's body figure and all. 

Mark straightened. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

The red-haired man came over to stand near the bed, making Jack feel extremely self-conscious all of a sudden.

Jack debated whether or not he should tell Mark the truth. Or... half of the truth, really. He came to the conclusion that it wouldn't hurt to tell Mark about what had happened, because he could trust him.

"Well... ta tell the truth... I've been kinda down 'cause..." He sighed. "Signe and I broke up last week. That's all."  
_Please believe me._

Mark's face instantly changed from concerned to sorry.  
"Oh, wow... really? That sucks, Jack..." Mark said sympathetically, sitting down next to Jack on the bed. 

Oh yeah, he believed him alright.

The half-Korean didn't notice it, but he was sitting close enough to Jack so that their knees were touching. Jack could feel the warmth emanating off of Mark and cleared his throat nervously, feeling heat rise to his face. 

"Y-yeah, but I'll be okay. It just... kinda wasn't working out. I, uhm... I didn't want ta make it public so soon..." Jack felt his pulse quicken as Mark sighed and leaned closer, looking up at the ceiling, still oblivious to the fact that he was so close to the Irishman. 

"Breakups are hard. I kind of wish you'd told me sooner though. I was worried that something was seriously wrong."

Probably wondering why Jack wasn't replying, Mark looked over at his friend to see him leaning away uncomfortably, looking the other way to hide his flushed face.

"Oh! Sorry, I wasn't aware that I was basically on top of you," Mark said with a laugh, scooting away. Jack tensed.  
_Get your mind out of the fucking gutter, Sean..._ Jack told himself, feeling his blush deepen.  
"Uhm... It's okay, don't worry about it."

Mark laughed again. "If you're sure. Also you should eat something. It'll make you feel better. Drown in the ice cream, for all I care."

Jack perked up just a tiny bit. "What kind of ice cream do ye have?"

"Chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, cookie dough..."

"Would ye mind if I had cookie dough? That's literally my favorite ice cream flavor ever," Jack said, slightly reserved due to the fact that he was asking for ice cream almost out of nowhere. 

"Of course, leprechaun. Be right back," Mark teased him, laughing as Jack gave him a playful shove. As soon as Mark left the room, however, Jack's smile faded.

How much longer could he keep up this facade; this illusion that he was happy and content, when on the inside he felt like he was slowly dying...?

~

Tears streamed down his face, and he pulled his legs closer to himself. Sharp gasps escaped his mouth, but he didn't care.

 _Fucking worthless,_ he thought, hiding a sob in his sleeve.  
_I'm fucking worthless._

Jack was sitting on the bathroom floor, sobbing softly. It was late at night, and he was going back to Ireland the next day. He was supposed to be getting sleep. But instead, the demons had decided to prey on him tonight, and they were eating him up on the inside, fueling his sobs with self-loathing.

_Signe didn't want to be with me anymore. Mark would never even consider it. Why would he? He's too perfect, too good of a person, and I'm nothing. Nothing. I fucking hate myself..._

"Jack? Jack, what's wrong?" a voice asked, right outside the bathroom door, followed by the sharp whine of a dog.

_Shit._

The Irishman paused, taking in short, silent breaths. Maybe he would go away...?

"Jack, open the door."

He sniffled involuntarily, wiping away his tears as he stood and opened the door, a sound like a gunshot ringing out as it unlocked. 

He was greeted by Mark's troubled face, searching Jack's with obvious worry. Chica entered the bathroom, circled around Jack once, and then nudged his legs, looking up at him with her tongue lolling. The dark-haired man stepped closer, stopping as Jack shied away.

"Hey... What's wrong? Why are you crying...?"

"It's nothing, Mark. I-I'm fine."

"Are you sure, Jack? That didn't seem like nothing," Mark murmured, tilting his head. 

"Well, I've been feeling under the weather. The breakup was just... really hard on me..." Jack insisted.

 _Lies, lies, lies,_ he thought to himself. _Just lies... All you're telling him is lies..._

 _I'm hurting_ , he wanted to say. _I say I'm fine, but I'm really a broken record being played over and over and over, because I stopped feeling fine a long time ago.  
Please don't believe me._

"Alright..." Mark relented, clearly only half-convinced. "You know we're here for you, right? Wade, Bob, Felix, Ken, and so many other people? And me? We'll always be here for you. _I'll_ always be here for you."

Jack nodded, plastering another smile across his face, which Mark seemed to believe, because he smiled back, if a little sadly. 

"I'm... going back to bed. Make sure you get some sleep, okay?" Mark reminded him. Jack nodded again, still smiling until Mark had turned, Chica close behind, and was back in his own room, door closed behind him. 

Jack numbly went back into the guest room, curled up in the covers, and cried silently into the pillow for hours until he finally fell asleep.

~

Jack still hadn't come downstairs.

They were supposed to leave in thirty minutes, and there had been no noise from the Irishman's room since Mark had woken up. 

He leaned against the counter casually, sipping coffee, looking through his social media sites. For some reason, Chica was sitting near the front door quietly, staring at Mark. He had opened the backdoor to let her out, but she wouldn't move, and he just shrugged it off.

He waited.  
And waited.  
And waited...  
After about half an hour, Mark started to feel worried. They had to leave like... now.

He went up the stairs to see what was holding Jack up. Maybe he'd forgotten to set his alarm or something.

"Jack?"

No answer.

He tried the knob and was surprised to find it unlocked. He opened the door and froze, his heart skipping a beat. 

Empty.

The bed was made, the shades were drawn, and the room was the exact same as it had been the day before Jack had gotten here.

Save for a note on the bureau.

Mark quickly picked the piece of paper up. All it had on it were two words in messy handwriting, but definitely Jack's.

"I'm sorry."

~

"Flight from Los Angeles, California to Athlone, Ireland boarding now; gate A2," a female voice called out over the intercom, her voice slightly segmented and a little hard to understand.

Jack stood and went to the gate along with a crowd of people, dragging his wheeled suitcase behind him. He didn't waste his energy trying to act happy, even when he was thanking the flight attendant as he boarded the plane. He was done with that shit.

As the plane finally took off, fifteen minutes later, he watched the city of LA below him, buildings shrinking, cars turning into ants, and people becoming invisible.

"I'm sorry, Mark," he whispered again, then leaned his head back against the seat, waiting for sleep that he knew wouldn't come.

~

"Th-the flight... to... to Ireland... uhm---" Mark managed to say, breathing heavily. The lady at the desk in front of the big screen displaying the words: "Los Angeles, CA to Athlone, Ireland" looked up at him in surprise.

"I'm sorry, sir, you just missed it. There's a seat left on the next flight to Ireland. It boards in two hours. Would you like to take that one?"

Mark quickly nodded. After racing back to buy the ticket for the last seat, he sank into one of the uncomfortable chairs at gate A2 heavily, sweat dotting his forehead. Habitually, he picked up his phone, but then put it back down when he realized that Jack's phone would be turned off while he was on the plane. Not that it would have made a difference. On the third time Mark had tried to call him, it had gone straight to Jack's voicemail. He hadn't responded to any of Mark's texts either. 

Mark decided to call Bob and Wade about it, but at that moment, his phone decided to die, and he swore under his breath when he realized that he hadn't brought his charger. 

Now he was just going to have to wait two agonizing hours until the plane boarded.

~

Jack shut the door to his darkened house forcefully. He weakly tossed his suitcase into the corner, kicked off his shoes, and pulled off his hoodie. 

_God, I need a shower..._ he thought.

As he finally stepped under the water, he let out a long sigh. It wasn't long after the first few minutes that he paused.

_Fuck it._

Within two minutes, he'd managed to grab a razor and make ten cuts along each arm, running from his shoulder to his wrist. He felt lightheaded from pain as he watched the blood pool around the cuts, then wash off and gather at the bottom of the shower, slowly going down the drain. 

Long after the water had gotten cold, he turned the shower off and stepped out, dripping and shivering. 

He felt numb.

He looked at himself in the mirror and felt such vicious self-hate that he tore his gaze away and gritted his teeth, tears forming in his blue eyes.

He just couldn't fucking take it anymore.

He just... couldn't.

~

Mark paid the cabbie in Euro and bolted down the driveway. The stars were bright in Ireland; he'd forgotten there could be that many in the sky. But he couldn't stop now.

 _Please be okay, Jack. Please be okay,_ he prayed, going up to the door. "Jack?!" he called as he knocked. 

Nothing.

He twisted the knob and was surprised yet again when it swung open, letting out an ominous creaking noise. 

The half-German jumped inside the dark house, yelling out Jack's name. "Jack?! Sean?! It's me, Mark! Where are you? Jack?!"

He wasn't familiar with this house, but he looked through it quickly, glancing into each room and switching on the lights as he went. When there was only one room left to check, he noticed that the door was half closed. He could only assume that it was Jack's bedroom.

"Jack?" 

Mark pushed the door wide open, glancing into the pitch black room. He felt for a light switch along the wall, and when he found it, flipped it on.

And then his heart almost stopped beating.

"J-JACK?! Oh my fucking god!"

Jack was hanging from the ceiling, a rope around his neck. His face was violently pale, his eyes closed, his body still swinging, as if his last movement had happened recently.

Mark, his heart beating a million fucking miles a minute, tore the rope down from the ceiling and cradled Jack in his arms, falling to the floor as his legs suddenly weakened.

Jack's head lolled lifelessly to the side, an angry, prominent red ring around his neck, burned into his skin.

"No, no, no, no, no! Please, Jack!" Mark shouted, pleading. Jack's skin was still warm, already growing cold, but still warm. 

"Breathe, Jack, breathe... Jack, open your eyes... Please..." Mark whispered, tears streaming down his face as he held his best friend, smoothing back the green hair from his forehead and wishing that he could see those sky blue eyes one last time.

But it was too late.

~

"I told you I would be there for you, Jack... Why did you do it?"

The afternoon fog in the air was cold. A soft breeze was starting to blow, bringing the scent of rain and early-blooming flowers.  
He stood under a willow tree, its long canopy of light green leaves swaying gently in the wind. A doe grazed with her speckled faun on the other side of the clearing, not minding his presence. The calming music of a small river somewhere nearby reached his ears. Sky blue flowers grew abundantly in the dark green grass and clover dripping with dew. 

Of course they'd want to bury him here.

He rested his hand on the smooth gravestone, then trailed his fingers down to the letters carefully and beautifully engraved into it, tracing the beloved name.

Seán William McLoughlin.

"Why did you do it, Jack...?" he repeated in a whisper, kneeling and pressing his hand flat against the front of the gravestone. He placed a single, blood red rose on the freshly dug soil, among the countless other cut flowers crowning the grave; roses, lilies, orchids, sunflowers, chrysanthemums, tulips, daisies, all different shades and colors and sizes, placed in a beautiful, colorful array.

"I should have seen the signs. I shouldn't have been such an idiot..." He laughed softly, humorlessly, feeling tears pool in his eyes. 

"This is my fault."

The tears left his eyes, dripping to the ground just to be replaced by more.

"Why do I keep losing the people I love? What is so wrong about loving someone that they have to die...?" 

His vision blurred so that he could barely see, and he took off his glasses, holding them weakly in his free hand as the tears fell.

"And... and I did love you, Jack. I knew you were a friend, but part of me wanted more... But I failed you. I told you that I'd be here, for you."

He looked up, staring at Jack's name as if staring into his blue, blue eyes.

"Well guess what? I'm still here, Sean. I'm still right fucking here," Mark whispered, his voice choking. He pressed his forehead against the grave, closing his eyes and feeling his strength almost completely leave him.

"I just... I can't believe you're gone."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm fine.  
I'm okay.  
I'm good.  
I'm alright.  
I'm happy.  
...  
I'm lying.

Doesn't that sound familiar...? Probably. I know it happens to me just about every day.

I'll be honest: I have no idea how to start this (I've never been a very good writer), and I'm afraid I won't be able to get my point across... but I can try. 

If you haven't caught on by now, I'm talking about depression. Suicidal thoughts. Self-hate. Etc. It's like that terrible feeling you get after you have a nightmare, but it doesn't go away. I haven't gone through enough to say that I know what it's really like... but it just kinda gets worse, day by day.  


And I know what it's like when the last thing you would ever tell someone is your real problems, though.  
When you know you would never admit your real troubles. I feel like I've been asked if I'm okay more in the past few months than I have in the entirety of my life.  
So you lie through your teeth.  
Spit out a stupid excuse.  
Tell them you're tired.  
Tell them you're fine.  
Tell them not to worry.  
Even though there is a small part of you that wishes they _would_ worry. Enough to say, "No, I know something's wrong."

I know what it's like to be afraid. There's too many people in this world for me to matter... I'm scared of being forgotten. I'm scared of my family and friends forgetting me, and I'll just be another face in the crowd, that no one remembers.

I know what it's like to hate yourself. Not to sound like an angsty teen but... seriously. I hate thinking about myself because, most of the time, it just sends me down to a dark place I'd rather not be in. My worst enemy is basically... myself. I hate how I get angry too easily, I hate that I always feel ignored or underestimated, I hate that I can never decide if I want to be alone or not, I hate that I never seem to be good enough, I hate that I'm so dependent on other people because, my God, I don't want to depend on other people so much. The list goes on.  
Yes, bring on the teenage angst...

But I want to tell you that you're not _ever_ alone. (Said Mark, am I right?)  
We're all important, we all have a purpose, we are all alive for a reason and we all have people that love us.  
But we're _only human_.  
There's only so much we can take before we _can't_ take it.

You need to know that whether you're feeling sick and tired and just want a hug, or you wonder what it would feel like to have a gun to your head, or you're having a hard time and just want to die, I promise there will always be someone there for you. Maybe you just haven't met them yet. Or maybe they want to help, and they're trying, but they can't.  
There will be someone that you can talk to and tell them what you're going through. There will be someone that will catch you, that will hold you, that will carry you through anything, that will protect you from your demons because you are worth it.  
The closest person I have to that is one of my best friends. I feel like, besides Mark and Jack, she's the only person who makes me happy. If I'm away from her for too long, I start feeling more and more like crap, and although I have five other friends, a few I barely talk to anymore (if ever), I feel as though they can't make me as happy as she can, and I'm forced to rely only on four videos a day to make me laugh and smile.  
And I trust her. I trust her more than my parents, my siblings, any of my other friends, even though I've known her for less than two years. Everyone needs that sort of person in their life, you know? And she's one of the things that keeps me going.

I'm not going to pretend that there's an easy way out of this, and even if you have someone to lean on, who actually understands, it's going to take much more than other people may think to crawl out of it. You may feel trapped, alone, afraid, lost, and hopeless, and that there's no other way out, but you _need to hold on_ , because I promise you that you're not going to live if you're dead. Even if you feel sick and tired of life, you can't give in. There is _always_ another way out.

I can't say just "feel better", because, hell, if everyone could just magically feel happy about themselves, the world would be so less... screwed up.  
I can't say don't put yourself down, because we can't control how we feel. I've tried so hard to control how I feel, in many different ways, many different scenarios. It's just... not going to happen.  
I can't say that I've been where you might be, because I probably haven't.  
But I DO know that feelings like these can cloud our eyes and make it so we can't see who we are and what is really so great about us. So I can tell you what you are.  
You are a human being. You are a person with your own feelings, thoughts, and will, along with crippling insecurities and demons and dark thoughts. You have a brain, heart, soul, and blood. You are _alive_ , damnit, and you shouldn't ever have to feel like, because of that, you need to hurt yourself or end your life.  
No, you can't be fixed. You're not a machine. But you can heal. And yes, healing can leave scars. But these scars will only be a reminder of what you have been through and how far you've made it.

And you will make it. One step at a time. Please trust me when I say this. 

You will make it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mark looked up as he heard footsteps on the stairs. 

He was wearing his light blue sweatshirt, one hand in his pocket, the other holding onto his suitcase, his eyes downcast. 

Mark's mind flashed back to the night before, when he hadn't been able to sleep, and he'd heard heartbreaking sobs coming from the hallway bathroom. And those sad, blue eyes, rimmed with red from crying, his skin irritated from tears, his mouth in a sorrowful frown. 

Something was definitely wrong. More than just a breakup.

Jack accepted a mug of coffee from Mark with a barely audible thanks, and they both leaned against opposite counters, Jack against the island in the middle of the room's counter. They sipped their coffee in silence, both staring at the floor.

What finally broke the silence was Jack clearing his throat. Mark looked up at him, his eyes wide with expectancy as Jack looked at him awkwardly, then averted eye contact, then met Mark's gaze again.

The green-haired man put his cup down on the counter.

"Mark... I... I..." He sighed, his voice filled with obvious disgust with himself for not being able to find the words he wanted to say. He ran a hand through his hair.

"I want ta say that I'm sorry. And don't ask why... I... I need ta get this out."

Mark straightened and nodded in acknowledgment, placing his mug on the countertop. 

"The end of my relationship with Signe was... is... a big part of... wh-what I'm feeling right now, but... but..." He gritted his teeth together. 

"I... I can't find the words, Mark..." he admitted, holding his forehead in his hands. 

Wondering whether or not he should speak, Mark shifted and then stepped forward. 

"It's alright. You can tell me anything," he said softly, feeling his heart flutter and melt in his chest when Jack looked up at him with trust in his eyes. He nodded and straightened as well, taking a deep breath.

"Mark... I... Fer the past few months... I... I think I've been... going through depression."

Jack didn't stop to think about Mark's reaction, which was a wide-eyed realization, and continued, not believing he was actually _saying these fucking words right now._

"I... I hate myself, Mark. I hate everything about me. I don't need anyone ta tell me I'm stupid, or ugly, or hopeless, because I tell myself that, every day. I've been having suicidal thoughts. A-and it gets harder ta get out of bed everyday, and harder ta sleep, and harder ta eat and drink. I have ta force myself ta... ta _live_ , Mark, and---and I need someone... t-ta be there fer me, b-but there isn't anyone. Th-they all think that th-they're there f-fer me, but they're not really... _there_..." He took another deep breath. 

"And... M-mark... I've been cutting."

Jack didn't stop to look at Mark's face. He pulled up his sleeves, showing the small, white scars, all parallel to each other, that he had always kept covered with such care.

"And I just... I just... I feel so alone and afraid right now, Mark. I... I feel s-so fooking alone..."

He closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. Never in his life did he ever fucking think he'd do anything like that. Ever.

Jack swallowed nervously, squeezing his eyes shut, willing the tears to not fall. He was on the goddamn edge. He'd pushed himself up to that edge, and the dam was barely keeping back his river of emotions.

Would Mark reject him? Why was he so silent? Why wasn't he saying anything?

Jack flinched when he felt a hand wrap around each of his wrists, slowly pulling them away from his face. He looked down to the floor, refusing to look at Mark's face. 

A gentle hand went under and lifted his chin, until Jack was looking into Mark's almond eyes, surprisingly showing calmness and collection. Jack's heart skipped a beat in his chest when Mark gave him a small, reassuring smile.

"You're never alone."

The caring in his voice... Jack just couldn't fucking take it.

The next thing he knew, he was in Mark's arms and oh God, it felt so right. He sobbed gently into Mark's shoulder, letting the dam that his heart had built overflow and burst.

Mark wordlessly pulled him closer, rubbing his back soothingly as Jack tightened his arms around Mark, shaking so hard and falling so fast for this man because he was _there_ for him, and reminded him that he was _never_ alone.

"Shh... It's alright... Let it out... I'm here, Jack," Mark soothed him, stroking his green hair.

"I'm here..."

~

Jack wasn't in the guest room.

He wasn't in the living room, the kitchen, or the dining room. Mark had checked both bathrooms, and even his own room.

Jack was missing.

"Jack? Jack?!" Mark called out again.

For some reason, he was afraid. His heart was beating so fast, and his breaths were so short and shallow, and adrenaline rushed through his veins, and his only worry in the world was that he had to find Jack.

"JACK! JACK, WHERE ARE YOU?!" Mark shouted frantically, his fear and panic building up faster and faster. 

~

Jack was leaning against the back porch's railing, watching with a smile as Chica raced around the pool again and again with her endless amount of energy, tongue lolling and ears flopping in the wind.

He tilted his head, his eyebrows furrowing. Had he just heard someone call his name...?  
He looked back at the house and heard someone yelling. They sounded panicked as all hell.

He walked to the back door and opened it, stepping into the house.

"Mark? Jaesus Christ, stop yelling. I'm right here---"

Jack was cut off by soft lips against his. Blue eyes widened as the barely taller figure put his hands on Jack's back, pulling him against his chest in a protective embrace and deepening the kiss. Jack's eyes fluttered closed, and he leaned into Mark, melting into this, enjoying every moment and feeling as though the past few messed up months have finally led to this moment, and God, was it worth it.

He was startled as Mark suddenly pulled away, eyes wide with shock at what he'd just done.

"I'm so, so, so sorry! That was so stupid of me. I mean, I shouldn't have... I should have asked---"

"Fer fook's sake, Mark," Jack whispered before grabbing the collar of Mark's flannel and pulling his lips back onto his own. They both sighed and held onto each other, weightless and blissful. Their fingers tangled in each other's hair, and their hearts were beating in perfect unison, and God, this moment couldn't be any more perfect.

They hadn't even noticed that they'd broken the kiss until they could breathe again. Both breathed heavily, feeling euphoric and perfect and _alright_.

"I love you, Jack," Mark whispered breathily.

"I love ye too, Mark," Jack replied, softly.

Jack knew getting through his depression was going to be difficult.

But with Mark by his side, he knew he was going to make it.

He would never be alone.

~

**Author's Note:**

> Wow.
> 
> It's 3:44 am in the freaking morning, and I should definitely be sleeping right now, because I'm getting up at 6:15 to go to a school camp, where I'm going to be for the next five days with no internet or contact with the outside world.
> 
> Woo hoo.
> 
> All jokes aside, I'm actually very proud of this though. It's the first fanfiction I've ever uploaded, and it's the first fanfiction I've actually ever finished, too. And for good reason/motivation: to let everyone know that they do matter, no matter how hard life may seem right now.
> 
> I'm surprised at how dark the first ending was, and the emotion that I put into it. I hadn't known that I had it in me. I'm very satisfied with both, but especially the second ending. It's kinda fluffy. :3
> 
> As for the middle... I meant every single word. You're never alone, alright? :)
> 
> Special thanks to FawnChara, LIKEABOSSFOREVER, and SpookyScarySkelesans, along with many others, for being my inspiration and motivation to make this happen. I know you guys are all at different places in where you stand fighting against depression, but, like I said, you guys are simply the reasons for the drive and need I felt to finish this.
> 
> Anyways, I'm probably going to go to sleep and upload this after I'm done getting ready for "school", so it's probably going to come up around 6:30-6:45. 
> 
> I leave you with a song and eleven inspirational quotes from our favorite dorks. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. :)
> 
> ~
> 
> "Even if I say,  
> it'll be alright.  
> Still I hear you say,  
> you want to end your life.  
> Now and again we try,  
> to just stay alive.  
> Maybe we'll turn it all around  
> 'cause it's  
> not too late.  
> It's never too late."  
> ~"Never Too Late" by Three Days Grace
> 
> "And this is me standing on my soapbox telling you guys that you are important, and you matter, and people may be sick of hearing that, but goddamnit, I'm going to tell it until the end of my days." ~Mark
> 
> "I hope I can be here, as a voice, as a friend, while playing games for you if you feel lonely or are depressed or anything like that. Jack is here." ~Jack
> 
> "You guys can do so much more, because I firmly and truly believe in you. Everything that I say I mean with every fiber of my being. I believe in you." ~Mark
> 
> "I'm so happy that you're not afraid to be who you are. Because that's one of the most important things a person has to overcome." ~Jack
> 
> "Don't let anyone tell you you're not important. And definitely don't tell yourself that. You all matter. Every single one of you." ~Mark
> 
> "Learn your weaknesses and fears. Embrace them. Then nobody will be able to use them." ~Jack
> 
> "People will try to tell you that you can't for as long as you're trying to do something and _they are wrong_." ~Mark
> 
> "Every time you fail is another chance to do something fucking amazing." ~Jack
> 
> "I know that people's situations can be terrible, and people can be in just... the worst hell that they've ever experienced in their life, and yet, still... there is reason to live. And I may not know it; I don't know your certain situation; I don't know what you're going through. But I can tell you that there _has_ to be a better way." ~Mark
> 
> "You are a unique, beautiful individual in your own way. So please just keep on fighting, and stick in there." ~Jack
> 
> "You're never alone." ~Mark and Jack

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [I thought I'd lost you - A message to those with Depression](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6832150) by [Roosterbytes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roosterbytes/pseuds/Roosterbytes)




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